Intertwined
by utterlybewitched
Summary: "I only ever thought there were two kinds of loves - the kind you would kill for and the kind you would die for. But you, my darling, you were the kind of love I would live for." The Cullen family members have found their mates amongst each other, but Carlisle remains alone. Follow Carlisle's path of finding the love of his existence. [pairing: Bellisle, M-rated, HIATUS!]
1. Chapter 1

Intertwined - A Bellisle story

by utterlybewitched

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 **A/N** : **Disclaimer: I do not intend to make money out of this. All characters and settings belong to Stephenie Meyer and I thank her for creating these wonderful characters! I am simply borrowing them and twisting them for my evil schemes.**

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Chapter 1

 **"How can you see into my eyes, like open doors?**

 **Leading you down into my core**

 **Where I've become so numb.**

 **Without a soul, my spirit's sleeping**

 **Somewhere cold**

 **Until you find it there, and lead it back home."**

\- Evanescence

 **"Never, never tell them. Try and remember that. Never tell anyone anything ever. Never tell anyone anything again."** – Ernest Hemingway

It still astounded him how through all the centuries and eras that humans were a constant inhabitant on this earth, on this very ground, the sky hardly altered. The ground changed, people were born, lived their lives in solitude or company, in pure bliss or agony, impacted others with their virtuous or sinful behaviour, and found their ends in graves deep down under the soil. It all starts with life and ends with death before starting over and over again. Earth changed constantly, yet when he looked up to the heavens it stayed the same. Each morning when dawn broke through dozens of branches of trees and made their way to the soil, it announced the sun rise and warmed the earth and its inhabitants with life, till at twilight light started to fade and the lunar circle was now a substitute for the elementary reason for existence – the sun.

The heavens above him stayed the same throughout all the centuries – each morning he would watch the sun rise, observe the sun at its peak, even though often times clouded, until he would see the sun disappear behind the gray mountains of Canada's wilderness. Each day he knew the sun would rise and be gone by the time he was finished with his work at the hospital so he could safely excuse himself and make his way home without raising any suspicion. And each and every day he found peace and tranquillity when he looked up to the heavens above him, whose cycle would never change, and would go on even when the humans around him grew old and could not observe the sky any longer due to their short life span. He would observe the sky as long as mankind existed, probably even beyond that, as long as God would have him, as long as Earth could still gravitate around the sun.

So it was no surprise that this morning Carlisle decided to close his heavy, dusty, old leader-bound book, filled with contents of thousands of Latin terms of the human anatomy that he had long memorized since reading it the first time in 1667. The pages were yellowed, not due to lack of care on his side, _god forbid_ – he would carefully turn the pages, worshipping each page, each word, each particle that cohered to the other - more so it was yellowed by oxygen that he himself did not need. He could place his books on a shelf with UV- filters to further prevent the pages from yellowing, he could further store his precious books at the optimum temperature around 70 degrees Fahrenheit, but oddly enough he rejoiced the fact that his surroundings slowly faded from age and usage while his cells were forever frozen at the age of 23 – no more growing, no more changing. It gave him pleasure to see his artefacts growing older and therefore remembering him of his true age and all the experiences that came with them.

Moreover, he could cease reading his books altogether, for every word was already memorized in his complex brain and he could easily enumerate that after _cervical vertebrae_ it was _thoracic vertebrae, lumbar vertebrae, sacrum_ and finally _coccygeal vertebrae_ that followed, Carlisle, however, _liked_ reading the familiar words that calmed his whirling, racing thoughts; they turned from a burning fire, making its way to ignite even more until nothing was left but ashes, to a constant burning of a candle light – the fire still remained present, but did not threaten to inflame everything around him. So did his thoughts: he would still think them, simultaneously keeping his mind busy with the anatomy of the spine, but they would be distracted to a certain degree and kept securely behind closed doors where he wanted them.

After closing his book with utmost care, he slowly made his way towards the windows which were facing the blue mountains. He could have used his vampire pace; it would have taken him exactly one - quarter of a second to be at the windows, he, however, chose against it. Unlike his family members who were exasperated by having to use the human pace in presence of them, Carlisle was content to walk in human pace occasionally. It made him feel _human_. And what use had vampire pace when he had forever? He was not stressed; he was not worried about running out of time as many humans his pretended age were.

 _Patience is a virtue_ , he thought, as he watched light red and yellow hues form in the clouds behind the Brobdingnagian mountain chain, announcing the beginning of a new day not yet lived.

Still, no sane person would have waited as incredibly long as he did; and often times Carlisle harboured the thought that he indeed lost his sanity sometime around the eighteen hundreds. The young doctor has read dozens of books – _his friends_ as he fondly called them, and he held them all close to his cold, non-beating heart. He learned through them, he felt with them, laughed with them and cried silent tears with them. Still it was not enough for he longed deeply for a physical companion. Carlisle had waited almost 300 years to turn someone, to make him experience the exact same pain of the infernal transformation, to bind him tightly to an invariable eternal life he himself had never wanted. Evidently, one bite did not guarantee that his partner would forever remain at his side, but Carlisle silently hoped still that his friend would be someone special, someone who he would not have to shield away from, someone who would _understand_ him, and most importantly – someone who could share his rigorous views.

Only later he realized that it was never enough.

In the end, it was his own selfishness that had forced him to turn the handsome, bronze-haired boy with green orb-looking eyes into an immortal monster back then in 1918 in midst of the Spanish Influenza that had caused thousands of helpless victims to succumb to death. An unusual plague had started spreading in January 1918 – whereas the first epidemic wave hit mostly weak individuals such as infants and the very old, the second wave killed previously healthy young adults; mostly young men – juvenile boys who had been ecstatic first to stand up with heavy armour to protect their Fatherland's front. The general population had an expectancy that the Great War would end as quickly as it had begun, but no one could have presumed it would last four awfully long years. As though it was not enough to read the long death roll in the newspapers each day, reminding Carlisle of the youthful lives who were being exploited by a needless war, now, however, those who had scarcely survived had to fight another obstacle that seemed impossible for the physicians to overcome. The doctor's hands were bound, they had to helplessly watch victims suffer from causes that were hard to fathom. The folks were familiar with pandemic diseases such as typhoid, yellow fever, diphtheria, and cholera, so it came as no surprise that doctors misdiagnosed the strange new case as such. Carlisle, however, knew better - haemorrhages from the nose, stomach, and intestine or bleeding from the ears were fairly new symptoms that could not be associated with these diseases; moreover the colouring of the skin with a blue-ish tint was novel altogether. Carlisle confirmed his suspicions - it was indeed the deadly Spanish influenza.

It was in 1918 that Carlisle worked night shifts at a local hospital in Chicago, Illinois – here he had patients who suffered from the evil as well for barely any place on this world was untouched by the devil himself.

Carlisle was now fully immersed in his memories and they took him many years back to a most fateful day in August 1918.

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"Doctor Cullen, _" nurse Maggie, an elderly woman, called his name out in fright, "_ make haste, make haste! _"_

 _Her voice usually sounded quite unaffected and filled with boredom and the staff often times wondered why she was in such proficiency in the first place. Now, however, her voice screeched and echoed through the corridors so loudly that Carlisle feared patients could be awoken, had not most of them been unconscious already. He almost shushed her, telling her to keep her voice low from now on, but he feared that questions would arise on how he could make out the most silent noises countless of rooms away. Carlisle hurried down the gloomy – lit corridors, each and every space occupied either by hospital beds or medical equipment, until he arrived at the quarantine, his impeccable black shoes, echoing in the hallways, would not be admired in such a place. His smile that met many patients on his way to the quarantine was overcome with grief – his attempts at easing the illness had been in vain, and it was a feeling entirely unexplainable to those who were not in his footsteps. Many years he had to witness thousands of people dying. It was a most angst-burdened feeling to be the confidential victim himself, utterly dependable on the doctor's skill, but to watch from afar how the light left someone's eyes was never a sentiment he would grow accustomed to._

Primum non nocere _– first, do no harm – was a phrase he tried to live his whole life after, but oft-times abstaining from doing anything felt as atrocious as doing harm. He felt like a failure and his mind constantly scolded him to work faster, harder, better, to research more thoroughly and efficiently, to open up his arms widely as a shield and keep humanity from any harm. Somehow, his arms were not long enough, not sturdy enough despite being made from granite, so that instead of ricocheting, all evil simply made his way through him._

 _The door was opened already and the nurse appeared in his sight. She need not make any explanations for it was clear for him to see what exactly had occurred. The sight was regrettably familiar._

 _Elizabeth Masen – a petite lady with bronze hair and green eyes, just like her son's - was moaning and writhing on her bed, sweat covering her forehead from exhaustion and fever._

"EDWARD _", she cried out in agony. Her eyes were closed, one could mistake her from having a nightmare; the blond doctor, however, knew better. Carlisle's brow creased and he silently made his way to her bedside and put his arms securely around her fragile shoulders. Her motherly effort at being a helping hand and caring for her son had made her ill herself._

"Mrs. Masen, everything is alright. You are safe _", he assured her. He knew the fever conjured the most scattered hallucinations, but he found that speaking in a soft tone, reassuring the patient of their surroundings, helped immensely. Despite all of his efforts, Mrs. Masen kept on moaning and crying out her dead husband's name while Carlisle turned to the nurse and ordered her to bring him a bucket filled with water. Elizabeth Masen's condition had worsened exponentially. It was only yesterday that Mrs. Masen had complained about a blazing pain in her head and limbs, and although she showed signs of bettering, her fever was reappearing again with more intensity._

 _Carlisle tried to calm her frenzied state by steadying his arms around her shoulders to prevent her from further hurting herself as she thrashed around. Nurse Maggie immediately reappeared at his side with a bucket of lukewarm water and a cloth._

 _"_ We must keep her fever down. She is delirious _." He informed. His voice sounded exhausted and although it was not possible for him to be so physically, his mind was a whole different matter._

"EDWARD _", Mrs. Masen cried out again, her eyes opened and glazed over as Carlisle winced internally at her ear-piercing scream. Then she was silent. Her husband Edward Masen Senior had died 2 hours after the same fever had made him ill._

"Look after her son, I shall take care of her.", _Carlisle uttered as Nurse Maggie placed the bucket on the nightstand, only to nod in understanding and leaving hastily._

 _Carlisle slowly opened the bed sheets to prohibit a heat stroke and dampened the cloth with lukewarm water. The lukewarm water would feel cool on her overheated skin. His eyes immediately raked over her form to detect any changes. Her skin had turned to a blue-ish hue, indicating that haemorrhages were filling up her lungs and he could smell her weakened blood - she would have only 2 hours left at most. He pitied her as he pitied all of his patients, but he could not allow himself to care too deeply for them, otherwise, he would go crazed. Still, he did - he cared too deeply for them, more so than he should have. Oftentimes a memory of a tired smile would reappear in his mind of a dying child or a joke spoken in times of hopelessness and despair. He had memorized all of his patients, their faces, their words, their fears, their stories. He was grateful that he was the one whose eyes would last see the light of the dying patient in their eyes as their soul left their tenuous bodies. In his head, he prayed for them to do well on the other side and he was grateful that their earthly sufferings had finally come to an end._

 _Not 4 hours ago, Mrs. Masen's husband had died, leaving only her and their son behind. Both were doomed to die and there was nothing left for the blond physician to do other than calming and caring for his patients, already on their deathbeds. As he placed the damp cloth on the lady's delicate forehead with gentle care, Elizabeth Masen briskly opened her eyes, awoken by the cold of his hand that she could feel through the damp cloth of cotton._

 _Green eyes met golden ones._

 _Elizabeth immediately recognized the pale figure in front of her._

 _"_ He is my only hope _", she thought silently._

 _Her hand, laying on the bedspread, shoot up to her forehead and she took hold of his hand, gripping him tightly. Her hot hand felt like fire atop of his. To Carlisle it came utterly unexpected that she would awake; probably she had sensed that they were not in a presence of another soul and any occurrence or word would not leave this sanctuary. Carlisle was astounded by her sudden strength. His motions came to a halt, looking into her eyes as confusion was clearly written on his face._

"Doctor, my Edward...", _she whispered, her voice raspy from crying and screaming. Her eyes, hooded from fatigue, were searching his face for the truth. She was now fully alert and conscious._

 _Carlisle sighed. The bitter truth would do. "_ He is dead. He died peacefully not 4 hours ago." _He lowered his head in shame._ "Forgive me, but there was nothing we could do for him. _"_

 _Elizabeth's eyes narrowed with suspicion. He could see her scrutinizing his appearance, but most importantly, his sincerity. Then she shook her head, her voice barely a whisper._

"No. My son, Edward."

 _Carlisle failed to reply, his eyes searching hers to detect her meaning._

 _She took another laboured breath and spoke the words no other being had spoken to him before._

"I beg of you. Promise me! _You must do everything in your power. What others cannot do, that is what you must do for my Edward_. _"_ ***** Her _eyes spoke nothing but of love for her son. She and her son were almost inseparable, a nurse had informed them. Both only had each other when the father was away for another business trip._

 _Carlisle froze completely, becoming statuesque. In that moment Elizabeth confirmed her suspicions._

She knew _._

 _She knew what he was, but had kept silent. She had probably feared and damned him silently under her unsteady breath, yet she still wanted him to turn her son._

 _Into a monster. A damned monster! But she could not know what she was asking of him. Anything would be better than this existence! It was not a life he would have chosen for himself willingly._

"I- I- How _?", asked Carlisle whispering, almost inaudible for human ears to hear. He could have sworn that one could cut the heavy tension with a knife as Carlisle anxiously awaited her reply._

 _But no answer came._

 _All of a sudden Elizabeth closed her eyes and started writhing again._

No! _Carlisle thought. He had to know. She was gambling with her son's life. He had a right to know. But it was too late, she had fallen unconscious. Carlisle let go of her completely and stared at her unceremoniously. Her heartbeat was slow, but steady, as though she would not rest in peace until he made his promise._

 _It couldn't be! The woman knew of his diabolic nature and demanded of him to change her son, her beloved, most precious son, to become a devil himself. Realization dawned on him – despite all circumstances, she wanted her son to live. She was, after all, a mother. Every loving mother would sacrifice everything in order to keep her child alive and safe. Yet he couldn't grant her wish. It was spoken in disarray, she did not mean them;_ shecould not _._

 _Without another look, he left the room and nodded to another nurse at the door to take care of her._

 _Still, what a thought! She could not know what desires she had awoken in him that he had long buried deep inside him. For centuries now, he had played with the idea of creating a companion, someone he would love unconditionally. He would stay by his side as a mentor and guidance and aid his fellow friend to keep his more humane side instead of succumbing to his bestial desires._

 _His vision almost became blurry as his thoughts whirled around in his head. Carlisle slowly arrived at his office and locked the door, his footsteps heavy from all the weight he carried on his shoulders. He silently sat in his stool and succumbed to his inner demon._

He could have denied Elizabeth Masen's wish to do what no other could do, as she had uttered in that fashion. He could have abandoned her last wish to care for her son whom she loved ardently with most abundance and fervour. Carlisle could have simply forsaken him and let the young boy sleep peacefully forever, but his blasted selfishness and loneliness haunted him and cried out for a companion. Was it not for his frozen heart, he could have sworn it shattered into million pieces as he gazed upon the young boy later, barely being able to lay in his bed in the quarantine, a victim contaminated by the cruelty.

 _What possibilities! What future he must have had ahead of him!_ Carlisle thought as he sat at the foot of the young boy's bed and contemplated.

Edward with his long-fingered piano hands could have easily become a well-known, most famous pianist; he could have married a young lady and become a father whose children bore the same green eyes. If Carlisle were to bite him, he would take away any remaining hopes for a human life. Gone would be a life in the light and fatherhood; he would have to succumb to an existence in the shadows forever.

Carlisle's conscience forced him to believe that this boy still had a whole life ahead of him. But as Carlisle had gazed at him with his skilled vampire eyes, he knew that Edward had no remaining chances of survival – his place in the morgue was safe, his stone at the graveyard almost engraved with his name directly below his mother's. Dark purple shadows graced his features, the green eyes glazed over as though he saw the angel's choir before him already, and his breathing sounded laboured. Death was knocking at the door and it was only mere hours when it would burst in.

Although his horrific condition shadowed his face, Carlisle saw beyond the many facets of death. Carlisle saw such purity in the young man's face; he saw intelligence, a soft heart that had suffered all the same, which were emotions unlike any other he has seen on a human in such intensity, so clearly written all over his face.

Edward simply _shone_ with goodness.

 _He is perfect,_ Carlisle admitted in his thoughts.

 _You must do everything in your power. What others cannot do, that is what you must do for my Edward_.

The boy's mother begged Carlisle to keep the young man on this earth. He could not blame her for her want. Such grace, such bravery, such purity, such compassion was a rare sight to behold.

Elizabeth Masen saw beyond Carlisle's mask and it was the unbreakable love of a mother that lived beyond the realms of death that reminded him of the mother he possibly had and wished he had had. And so he had promised her, whispering in her ear as she died 2 hours later.

He foolishly believed that it was her beg that he still heard repeating itself in his mind, even hours after she died, that finally urged him on to save Edward from death when he took the boy into his arms and left the quarantine as fast as his vampire pace allowed him to. He acted on impulse now. The more he thought about it, the more his conscience and rationality would kick in. He still believed her words as he hurriedly carried the boy in his arms while flying through the shadows, and he still believed it when he safely placed the boy on his bed in a small secluded cottage. He still believed it when he regarded Edward's aorta that pulsed deliciously and pumped red blood through his veins.

 _No, focus_ , he chided himself. Edward's skin slowly turned from a pale complexion to a dark blue and purple colour and his nose started to bleed – it was only mere minutes until the inevitable would happen, what no human could save him from.

And Carlisle still believed he heard the mother's voice ringing in his head when he felt the venom pooling in his mouth and he neared the boy's neck, a finger's width separated him from a nearly unconscious boy.

 _I promised her,_ he calmed himself.

 _Please._

But it was not Elizabeth Masen's voice he heard at this moment to keep his promise, seconds away from biting – it was his own heart that begged him to succumb to his wishes and fantasies for a companion, a dear friend, a most beloved son. In that moment, he simply wanted to let go – he wanted to let go of his nagging conscience that begged him to let this boy die in peace, he wanted to let go of his fear of failing to turn him successfully, and he wanted to let go of his persistent solitude.

 _Please._

So Carlisle let go and did what no other could do.

 _Please help me, God!_

Carlisle took an unnecessary breath and whispered into the boy's ear, _Edward_ 's ear,

"Forgive me, my **son**."

And then he bit.

Edward's fate was decided.

* * *

Carlisle heard Edward's footsteps ascend the top of the stairs next to his office and Carlisle snapped out of his thoughts, pulling him back to the present.

He turned around and gazed at the person he only saw seconds ago in his memories. He could have sworn the man in front of him was more mature, more experienced, which he undeniably was, yet he was still the same – in all his glory. He gazed at his son, his friend, with whom he had shared every passing thought his mind had entertained in his entire existence – up until now.

 _Is something the matter_ , Carlisle questioned in his thoughts, worry lacing in his tone.

Edward stood in the doorway and smiled sadly, "You often think of this lately."

 _I can't help it. It was you who was my first and only true friend, my companion. You suffocated my solitude. You mean so much to me, Edward, my boy. It was you who finally made me think of creating a family for ourselves. I must always thank God for his kindness._

"And I am forever grateful for it, father. You gave me a friend and a connection I longed for in my human life. And most importantly, you gave me Esme."

Edward's eyes shone with love – love for a long-time friend, love for the want of bettering himself and fighting his inner demon due to his father's vegetarian way he offered him, love for a father he never had as a human, love for his family and most importantly – love for Esme, his wife.

 _I always wanted you to be happy._

"And I you. And that is why I must ask you – why do you mask your thoughts for me? What is it that bothers you lately? Forgive me, but you do not look well, Carlisle."

Carlisle sighed and faced the window again, carefully masking his facial expression and emotions that, fortunately for him, Edward could not read. He was glad Jasper and Alice went on a hunt, otherwise, this would have been difficult. He knew they all used their talents and played against him and his privacy. As much as he loved his family, and loved their talks in all openness, he occasionally needed time for himself. Carlisle closed his eyes painfully; it was a mistake he would not make again. He should not have allowed his thoughts to wander to his innermost desires when Edward was around. But it was so easy to open up to God when a new day broke through and at these times he felt closest to God, it almost happened beyond his reach - unconsciously.

Instead, he made sure that Edward only read thoughts of him observing the sky and its beauty again.

 _I am simply indulging in memories, Edward. You know, better than anyone else, that I am a melancholic by nature._

He heard Edward sigh and open his mouth to speak further and keep his inquiries. For months now, he and the others had tried to help Carlisle and understand what was bothering him. Carlisle, however, would not open up as much as it pained him and his family members - who could do nothing but watching from afar how Carlisle silently suffered - and so they accepted his wishes to simply leave him be. And often times Carlisle was indeed happy, as Jasper assured Edward. Still, as his oldest companion and dearest friend, he had a suspicion that Carlisle, the altruist he was, kept something from him and his family.

"I do not mean to pry, Carlisle."

Carlisle turned and put a hand on Edward's shoulder.

 _I know, my son. It is simply time for me to leave for the hospital. I will arrive at noon tomorrow._

Edward raised his eyebrows in surprise which should not have been one for him. It was for four months now that Carlisle had been taking the 30 hours shift and they barely saw him anymore apart from bits and pieces of his body when he rushed through the house to arrive in his study that he kept firmly locked most of the time. He was never at home for leisure time, moreover, Edward and the others were sure they would never see him if it weren't for his family and the sake of appearance he had to keep – humans had to rest and he had obligations to care for his children. All of them feared that they would somehow lose their beloved patriarch and father.

"Another 30 hours shift? Esme wishes for some family time. We all do."

 _They need me._

"We need you, too. Never forget that, Carlisle."

It was later when he was out of earshot of Edward's ability that he decided that he would not indulge in his deepest fantasies and pitiful feelings in front of his family ever again. He would only think of them when at the hospital or when he was completely alone.

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Carlisle's thoughts are in _italic._

 **A/N:**

Hello, guys! This is my very first attempt at writing a fanfiction story and I am still unsure if I will continue it. Probably I will leave it at that. Personal matters hinder me from doing any writing at the moment. Therefore, if I may not contine it - regard this chapter as a One Shot, but we will see what the future brings!

I apologize for any grammar mistakes or typos you may encounter whilst reading.

I am not a native English speaker, so please bear with me. If, however, you do find some mistakes (and I am absolutely positive that you will), please write them down and mention them in your review or simply PM me. I'll be happy to oblige and correct them.

On top of that, this is my very first fanfiction – if there are any difficulties reading this story due to the format, I apologize in advance as well. I am fairly new to this page and wholly unaccustomed to publishing any of my work, or formatting for that matter.

Also, I often like to play with words and adverbs, therefore my chapters turn out to be quite lengthy.

I love to put effort into my writing, carefully choosing each and every word and oftentimes re-writing a paragraph.

And finally, be warned – the story is M-rated. In the following chapters, if there will be any - we will see, you will encounter sucicide attempts, depression, DP/DR and GAD (generalized anxiety disorder), later on we move on to sexual intimacy as Bella's and Carlisle's relationship progresses. And this chapter was quite angsty as well. So if you have any problems with that or are quite inexperienced or sensitive in that matter, please read at your own risk or put the story aside for a later time.

Now, on to some information about the story.

The glorious quote from my summary was directly taken from "forksfiction" on twilight. Please check out her wonderful twilight postings and her very own fanfiction story "The Literary Pharmacy". I love it!

The information about the Spanish Influenza and the anatomy of the spine can be found on wikipedia. It was so much fun to google and dig into the history!

* _You must do everything in your power. What others cannot do, that is what you must do for my Edward_. That quote is directly taken from New Moon. Other than that, I have slightly altered the retellings of Edward's and Elizabeth's hospitalization. Not everything is exactly as Carlisle told Bella in New Moon, but that was done on purpose.

To clearify on whether Carlisle is OOC, because I can almost hear your answers: I see Carlisle as an INFJ from the Meyer's Brigg's Type Indicator. For some he may seem an optimist, he is for me, but we must view him as someone who did not find his soul mate yet. Carlisle resembles Edward, in my opinion, and vice versa. And of course, after all these years of being together, they have adopted some personality traits and thought patterns of their companion. Both are melancholic by nature, Edward simply had his music to keep him going and his family, Carlisle had his medicine, his family and his faith. But we must not forget that in my fanfic it is Edward who never had to wait 100 years for his mate – he had to wait for her for 5 years at best.

And even though Carlisle suffers, he would not give in like Edward would have and showed his displeasure openly for everyone to see (see Twilight). Carlisle is altruistic and he is guilty for his desires, because he has more than he could have ever wished for, so how dare he wish for a mate...

Also, this is my fantasy and my Carlisle (lol, how possessive I am). For some he may seem OCC, but keep in mind that he is not entirely the Carlisle we know from all the Twilight series. We do not know as much about him as I would have liked, because SM wanted to show Edward's and Bellas's story, therefore their feelings. We do not know really how Carlisle is, only the surface and INFJs are complex beings anyway (I am one myself, we are very contradictory and complex) because everything is from Bella's POV, and we do not know how Carlisle would have been behaving without a mate. Here is where I explore his character and his story.

Please review and share your thoughts!

 **Thank you very much!**

With lots of love and until we read from each other again,

utterlybewitched


	2. Chapter 2

Intertwined - A Bellisle story

by utterlybewitched

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 **A/N: Disclaimer: I do not intend to make money out of this. All characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.  
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 **~ Hello guys, I'm back! I have so many news to share with you!**

 **First of all, I'd like to thank everyone - 6 Reviews, 12 Favs and 32 Follows! You guys are INSANE! I never thought that someone would actually like my story and your feedback means so much to me! I cannot thank you enough! Thank you from the bottom of my heart! I love you guys!**

 **I still have no clue how to answer your reviews, so I will do it in the _Author's Note_ at the end of the chapter. **

**I have decided to continue my story and it was your response that spurred me on to dwell more on Carlisle's thoughts - thank you again!**

 **But be warned, it will be a lenghty ride. I will start Uni next week (gosh, I am _so_ nervous and excited), so I don't know when or if I will have time to post or even do some writing, but we shall see! I don't care how long it will take me to write the story, even if it will take years! In case someone wants to know - I will be an undergraduate in English Literature and, besides loving classics and literature in general, I hope to improve my articluation in English. **

**I am sorry you had to wait so long, but I had to mentally decide where I want my story to go. The next 3 chapters are planned out in my head already. This chapter is quite short, but it was so funny to write and I did want Carlisle to be a little more casual before hell will break loose in the next chapter.**

 **Thank you for waiting so patiently - you guys rock!**

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 _Carlisle's thoughts are in italic._ All mistakes are my own. Enjoy! _  
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Chapter 2

A door of a patient's room clicked shut with a small thud as Carlisle made his leave for his redundant break. The buzzing and beeping of the ECGs could be heard throughout the entire clinic – although the machinery beeped in different rhythms, there was no need for uproar. Most of the patient's heart rates were ranging from 40 to 50 bpm, indicating that sleep had claimed most of them. If there was indeed any alteration, he would undoubtedly be the first to hear it.

His nerve fibres of his olfactory nerves could detect the pungent smell of hydrogen peroxide that was omnipresent. He caught a faint whiff of raspberry, melon, and bergamot that came from the direction of the nurse station; after the top notes dissipated, he could pick up the scent of Brazilian paradise orchid, acacia, lilies, sandalwood and Madagascar vanilla. The perfume was meant to excite and seduce, but to him, in this deadly combination, it was too sickeningly sweet and it was beginning to overpower his senses that he was forced to stop breathing.

As he stepped into the brightly illuminated hospital floor, his glance travelled to the clock, and he instantaneously brought his fingers to his blue cravat, readjusting it. Others would have been ecstatic to take a much-needed break within a tedious 30 hour - shift, Carlisle, however, anticipated it with mere dread. There was always work to do, but he could only do so many rounds, checking on the condition of his patients that had been hospitalized for an indefinite amount of time, before he would raise suspicion amongst his fellow co-workers. Therefore, he made sure to slump his shoulders and to decelerate his speed to a languid and lethargic step. One matter he did not have to be concerned about was his dark blue and purple circles under his amber eyes that, ironically, were not from sleep deprivation. Suppressing a rich sigh, he slowly made his way to his office at the far end of the hallway, but not before he had to pass the frightening front desk of the nurse station.

Mrs. Martha Field, an obese lady in her fifties, and Mrs. Fanny O'Brien, a petite brunette in her late thirties, were seated nonchalantly at their desks, engaging in their usual chatter and he could pick up their whispered words effortlessly. At least they had the decency to lower their voices as it was night time already. The topic of their chatter, however, did not raise their honour in the slightest.

"... and then he picked up my pencil that had 'accidentally' fallen from my hands, all gentlemanly. I made sure to lean forward so he could catch a good look of these babies," the hands of the female cupped her breasts as an indication before continuing,

"Betty told me afterwards that she had a good view of his derrière. Can you believe it? 10 out of 10! I wish I had seen it" expressed Mrs. Field with a bemused look, swirling a lock of her platinum blond hair around her index finger.

"You should tell Betty next time to always have her phone at hand," giggled Mrs. O'Brien in a high-pitched tone, simultaneously scrutinizing her reflexion in a pocket mirror. She made an attempt at fixing her bold fuchsia lipstick, smudging any faults with her fingers.

Carlisle could not decide which one of these ladies was of the worst kind. Over the course of the years, the female staff had made myriad attempts to catch the attention of the blond-haired doctor, failing miserably. For a week or two, as to explain his 'odd' behaviour, there was even a rumour of him 'swinging the other way' as he had heard it, but Carlisle made sure to suffocate these baseless rumours as Esme had mercifully agreed to make a trip to the hospital, pretending to fetch his papers that he had 'forgotten' at home, breaking the hearts of the greedy hyenas and the entirety of the female population within a radius of 100 square kilometres or more. For 3 days, they had ceased their flirtatious behaviour and Carlisle had almost sighed in contentment and relief of finally being left alone before they had decided that a taken man would by no means stop them. With the utmost displeasure on Edward's side, Carlisle had to take drastic measures by announcing his and Esme's marriage and wearing a wedding band on his left ring finger from that moment on, but to no avail.

Up until this day, he was still being followed, gawked-upon and flirted at without any shame or restraint. Now they had made it their goal to 'conquer' and seduce him for an affair with the 'hot specimen' as they called him. And most impetuously - they did not spare a second thought on infidelity although most of them were married or otherwise engaged.

He could not help himself but find shocking similarities between the fictional heartbreaker Rosalie Murray, who enjoyed flirting above anything else, and his female co-workers.

" _To think that I could be such a fool as to fall in LOVE! It is quite beneath the dignity of a woman to do such a thing. LOVE! I detest the word! As applied to one of our sex, I think it a perfect insult._ _A preference I might acknowledge; but never for one like poor Mr. Hatfield, who has not seven hundred a year to bless himself with."*_

He was certain this too was the perusal and lifestyle these two nurses entertained.

Even though Carlisle regarded each and every century and era with fond memories, some definitely had their advantages. Back then in the 19th century or even the beginning of the 20th century, women were frowned upon and called atrocious names when throwing themselves at men.

The strict etiquette and conduct towards the fairer sex, however, would still not have rescued him - he was sure that they would have found ways to find a most compromising situation to place him in and he would have been forced to marry the 'lucky lady' in order to save her reputation.

"I have to tell you. One time, I had considered cutting myself, only to be examined and touched by him. Can you imagine what these _long_ , _sexy_ fingers could do to your body when-"

 _Good grief, will it never stop?_ He thought to himself in horror and looked down at the linoleum floor as he kept on walking.

While he had been working in Ashland, Wisconsin in 1921, and Edward had been impervious enough to the smell of humans, his son had insisted on making a visit at the hospital to further test his limits of self-restraint, much to Carlisle's ever-present worry, before rushing out as the scent of human blood was too overwhelming for him. But these minutes had been abundant enough for Edward to listen to the naughty thoughts of Carlisle's female colleagues. Afterwards, Edward had provided him with information that Carlisle would have gladly obliviated. From this moment on, he found it exceptionally hard to look into their eyes without remembering Edward's horrific tales and he had made sure to lessen his beaming smiles, but soon he had learnt to overlook it. How he wished that he had not seen it as a burden back then, for it was hundred times worse now! After the beginning of the seventies up until the present, he was compelled to endure the female's lustful thoughts as they were openly shared with their greedy co-workers in hushed, husky tones.

"But with his heavy workload," Mrs. O'Brien interrupted, "and with your luck, you surely would have ended up with Dr Thung instead."

Dr Thung was an elderly co-worker of Carlisle, in his late forties and 'working as a doctor only for the salary' as he had gracefully put it. They got along fairly well, but Carlisle had to remind him on kindly refraining from his snide remarks about the nurses and his disrespectful comments towards women on occasion.

"Eww, that old lewd can keep his filthy hands to himself," exclaimed Martha and crinkled her nose in displeasure while facing to the side.

 _Dear God, let me get away without a catastrophic event._

In that moment, she saw Carlisle coming their way, and her face lit up immediately as she regarded his form, giving him a once over. Her eyes seemed to rest on his broad shoulders, covered with his white doctor's coat. Her right elbow shot out underneath the counter and hit Fanny's _costae spuriae,_ whispering in a hushed tone, " _Doctor_ 's here."

 _No need for such strict formalities when you have pictured me as your lover already._

Mrs Fanny O'Brien had the decency to blush, albeit making attempts at straightening her posture and bringing out her cleavage. She hastily floundered to cover her vanity by throwing her pocket mirror to the side. Both of their heart rates immediately accelerated to an unhealthy speed as they observed him coming nearer and Carlisle forced himself to smile lightly, ignoring that he could smell the oestrogens in the air, fresh from arousal – entirely natural reactions to the other sex and while being at the peak of their libidos, but purely unwelcomed by him and emitted from them in such an extent that was simply unimaginable and uncouth. He was appalled at being their personal aphrodisiac that triggered their carnal desires, but he so was exposed to their odour that he almost became immune to it.

 _A man's manners are his fortune._ *

" _The name gentleman indicates one who is gentle, mild, even-tempered. Some are born so, and will naturally exercise these qualities in having to do with their fellows. Many have these qualities to acquire, and some, at least, have to use them as a cloak to gain admission to circles otherwise closed against them. The polished way, smooth speech and easy bearing of a complete gentleman pleasurably affect any company of persons, neither are they soon forgotten. Unconsciously we imitate them, and thus the grace of good behaviour becomes an influence well worth the while of any who would be a gentleman, to seek it."_ *

He desperately hoped that by following Walter R. Houghton's example, his formal speech and decorum would influence their comportment and bring the best out in them.

Bowing his head slightly, he greeted them, "Ladies," coming to a halt in front of their desk 3 steps away, creating a much-needed distance on his side. He urged himself to breathe regularly, but it was almost painful as he caught the noxiously sweet fragrance of Mrs Field's inexpensive perfume again.

 _God, that horrible smell!_

"Doctor Cullen," they answered in unison and shared a curt look out of the corner of their eyes that did not go unnoticed by him. He, however, pretended to ignore their behaviour. As always.

Speaking in a neutral, but friendly tone, careful to not favour one lady over the other by looking at both of their eyes in equal quantities, he informed them, "I will leave for my break. Should any occurrence or problem arise, I can be found in my office."

"My, you do look very tired, _Doctor_ ," called Fanny in mock concern, "I can come by and bring you a coffee." She fluttered her eyelids, her eyes dilating very slightly in lust. He knew that it would not stay merely by that if he did not make his leave now.

 _And coffee was most definitely not what I was craving at the moment._

"I thank you for your kind offer, but that won't be necessary, I assure you."

She huffed, feigning being injured, but then smiled sweetly, batting her eyelashes again.

"Have a good remainder of your shift," Carlisle said politely and almost bolted for an escape. He felt their eyes staring at his form, minds filled with indecent thoughts, as he absconded from their presence and heard them erupting into chatter again.

" _Lord_ , Betty was right."

~{}~

* * *

 **A/N:**

The quote " _A man's manners are his fortune."_ * is an old saying I have found in the book "American Etiquette and Rules of Politeness" by Walter R. Houghton (1883), as well as the paragraph on manners. The paragraph on love is from Agnes Grey by Anne Bronte. The ingredients of the perfume are from the fragrance "Guess Girl". I love to research and include references from classics into Carlisle's thoughts, because his inner world is so rich and that man knows **so** much! I don't find it particularily hard to write him as a character, but the vampire senses and his experiences and thoughts is an entirely different matter! That is quite a challenge, but one I take up with pleasure.

I hope you had some fun reading Carlisle being tortured by those women, but hey - they are not wrong! Carlisle is such a _hot_ DILF, being completely honest here.

Now on to your reviews!

 **~to 'Goldielover':**

Thank you _so_ much for your kind words! Never fear, the Cullens will make an appearance in the next chapter and things will start to go from there rather quickly - I promise! He is such a puppy dog in that melancholic state and I wish I could hug my life out of him, lol! And your last comment made me blush! It means so much to me! THANK YOU SO MUCH! Love you!

 **~to 'sweetsouthernsongbird' ; 'Lexi-DeAnne Clearwater' ; 'orchidluv' ; 'harmony82':**

Thank you so much! It means so much to me! Love you guys!

 **~to 'AHealingRenaissance'** : Thank you so much! You ENJFs rock!

* * *

~Thank you so much for 12 Favorites and 32 Follows! I don't deserve it! THANK YOU!

Please review and share your thoughts! I love you guys!

With lots of love and until we read from each other again,

utterlybewitched


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